


Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

by BetsyByron



Category: Logan - Fandom, X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: First Class (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 00:31:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11703051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetsyByron/pseuds/BetsyByron
Summary: Erik and Charles meet for lunch





	Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> I've not written anything in ages, so forgive this little piece!

It had been a miserable couple of weeks, since Erik had started his new job, and although he had been eying up the little park just down the road, he hadn’t had a chance to eat outside yet.

He dropped on the miraculously dry bench with a sense of relief, thanking whatever deity for this little bit of warmth and sunshine. Finally. Sometimes he wondered why he had left the south of Italy; but as he looked around the greenery, he remembered why he had been so taken with London in the first place.

“Mind if I sit here?”

Erik was already shuffling to one side as he looked up, and the words got stuck in his throat. A perfect specimen of a man was smiling expectantly at him, and he couldn’t help but think of Logan’s daughter and her Tumblr page – sexual orientation: this man. God that kid was growing up too fast.

The man had taken Erik’s movement for enough of an answer, sat down and proceeded to unclip a small container with what looked like leftover pasta.

“Finally some acceptable weather, isn’t it?” He said, and Erik wasn’t used to Londoners being particularly talkative, but he had a suspicion he would have enjoyed sitting there and listening to the smooth voice all day long. So if he was friendly as well as hot – good, he supposed.

“Yes, I was starting to believe the cliché assumption that England barely ever sees the sun.” He replied.

“Oh, are you new to London?” The man asked, taking a mouthful of his lunch. Erik tried not to stare at his lips.

“I visited before, but I just moved here more permanently. Good job offer. I’m a marine engineer.” He specified before the other could ask. It was usually the question to follow.

“Amazing!” His companion exclaimed. “I’ve always felt a kinship to engineers. I’m a geneticist – it feels like you look into the inwards of a machine the same way I look into a human organism. Only the amount of life within the parts really changes.”

Erik laughed, and he caught a certainly appreciative look in the other man’s eyes. Ah, maybe making an impression had gone both ways. “It’s one way of putting it.” He accepted humorously.

He met the man’s eyes, and felt something connect between them. He knew when he was looking at a kindred spirit – he’d felt the same when he’d met Logan, and although he couldn’t trust him as far as he could throw him at the beginning, he had known their paths would be intertwined now that they’d crossed.

“I’m Erik.” He therefore jumped the gun, offering his hand.

“Charles.” He shook it with a definite twinkle in his eyes. “Nice to meet you.”

*

Erik found he was opening up to Charles like he hadn’t really to anyone else before – aside from his mother, and surely that didn’t count, because she seemed to know everything about him before he even had to open his mouth.

They had been having lunch every week day for a fortnight; even once not on the park bench, but finding shelter in a little café tucked away from a memorable downpour, Charles accepting to eat his usual Tupperware lunch later (he always had one. “Home cooked and healthy”, he'd told Erik, “does half the job of a balanced lifestyle”). They talked about art, politics, the weather, technology. Erik talked about Logan and Laura and how scary it was sometimes to have a young girl look up to him. Charles talked about growing up in American and studying in Oxford. They even talked about fashion.

“I just don’t understand how some things can be anyone's taste.” Erik got complaining one day, looking at a couple of young men walk past. “Why would you wear something that is purposefully full of holes? Why would you _buy it_ already full of holes?”

“My friend.” Charles answered with feeling. “We live in a world where twerking is a legitimate skill. Don’t ask for too much when it comes to taste.”

Erik snorted with laughter.

“Fair enough.” He replied. “I just wonder sometimes if these people look at themselves in the mirror before leaving the house and genuinely think - Perfect, I look totally amazing today.”

Charles laughed in turn, and Erik felt a little tingle in his stomach which he, for the umpteenth time, decided to analyse later.

*

Spring turned into summer, and Erik didn't know if that made him a sad person that the best friend he'd ever had was a near-stranger - because let's be honest, he didn't know all that much about Charles, whom he had lunch with for a short hour five times a week. Yet he felt like he had a bond with him that he'd never felt with another person. Not that Logan wasn't a friend, but…

“Logan is a soldier.” Erik said one day - he'd mentioned him in passing often enough that Charles had finally asked how he knew him. “Not literally, he wasn't in any war, but he's got that survival instinct from another age.”

He had explained how they'd crossed paths, back in the days, when Erik was living one day at a time working in diners and bars somewhere in Colorado to pay for each night's motel, searching for some meaning in his life after his father's death had made him run away from Europe, putting all he had in a plane ticket and not looking back. That night, faced with a beaten and bleeding man, he practically wrestled Logan’s car keys out of his hands, refusing him another drink until he accepted to be driven to the hospital. There was a shady story about a fight and a girl - Erik didn't dig, and he suspected that was what had ultimately earned him Logan’s trust.

“What about your mother?” Charles asked after Erik had expanded on the mess he was after losing his father, and how Logan had somewhat filled that hole - not a father, but a brother in arms maybe.

“She was in a coma for seven months, from the same car accident. After three, I'd lost hope. The doctors couldn't give me any based on medical data. I felt terrible when she woke up and I was thousands of miles away, but I think travelling saved me. I was in a really bad place for a while. You wouldn't have liked me.” He added with a laugh.

Charles’ smile, just then, felt like he knew something Erik didn't.

“Anyway.” He cleared his throat, hoping he wasn’t blushing like a schoolboy. “I didn’t take any of Logan’s shit, and he didn’t take any of mine. In the end I think we helped each other be better people. Now if Logan looks at you, you don’t feel as much as if he’d like to rip your throat out with his teeth. Minorly. Laura probably helped him with that as well, though she was just as feral in the beginning.”

“The way you talk about them,” Charles commented with amusement, “is like you’ve been taming a couple of wild wolves.”

“Close enough.” Erik deadpanned.

***

Charles never complained. Erik came to the realisation one day he was complaining - because on the other hand, Erik was critical of just about everything - that his secretary insisted on printing and framing the confirmation letter of the grant he has just received to pursue his development of a new engine for submarines, based on a paper he had published outlining the test run of a small-scale prototype.

“Why do people always have to make a fuss about these things?” He was grunting. “It’s just part and parcel of the job, there is no need to make it a bigger deal than it is. I just want to get on with my work.”

“Erik.” Charles said, and honestly, when had it become okay for him to adopt such a chastising tone with him? “She’s clearly happy for you. Let her do something nice to express her support, she’s not doing any harm.”

Erik sighed. “You’re right. Of course you are. How do you remain so positive all the time?”

Surprisingly, Charles ducked his head instead of giving Erik one of the tongue-in-cheek replies he would have been expecting.

“What’s the matter?” Erik asked, more concern transpiring in his voice than he would have reasonably liked to express.

“I wasn’t always like this.” Charles confessed. “At one point in my life, I was very negative indeed. I didn’t even realise it, I just… I seemed to always see the bad side of things. Pessimism ran in the family, and for some reason in my mind that made it okay for me to be like that. Then…” He sighed. “Then my father shot himself.”

“Oh my god.” Erik reacted.

“Yeah.” Charles winced. “It was a real wake up call, I thought to myself, you can’t keep seeing the glass half empty or you’ll end up like him. So I pulled myself together, meditated a lot, had a crisis of identity or two, and eventually found my balance. I think that’s how I manage to be a teacher.” He added more lightly to alleviate the tension.

“You teach?” Erik bounced back, offering Charles a way out of the previous topic of conversation he clearly wanted to close.

“I do.” Charles confirmed. “Well, not at the moment per se, it’s the summer holiday, I’m catching up on my research. But I have a few post-graduate classes. Quite a few students signed up for September actually!

Erik briefly wondered how many of those had chosen the module less for genetics than for Charles’ perfect blue eyes.

***

Even Logan, that gruff beast of a man, had told Erik he looked happier these days, yet Erik refused to consciously see his relationship with Charles as anything else than a pleasant acquaintance. Maybe it scared him, after Magda and the ruins she had left of his heart. After a little under two months, though, there were signs he couldn't deny were quite revealing of how he felt.

He had an awareness of Charles that was verging on obsession. If anyone had asked, he could have described everything about him. The shade of his eyes, the wave of his hair, the curve and colour of his lips. What he wore that day, how many times he laughed or called him ‘My friend’. Or even what he ate - so when he opened a sandwich instead of his usual container one day, Erik had to tease.

“A meal deal, honestly Charles?” He commented. “What happened to home cooked and healthy?”

He immediately regretted his question. So far, one thing he'd carefully avoided talking about was if Charles was into women, men or both, and mostly if he was actually single. What if the answer now contained a ‘we’ he didn't want to know about?

“Oh.” Charles looked down at his lunch mournfully. “My sister dropped by unannounced and raided most of the edible goods in my flat.” He explained.

“I didn't know you had a sister.” Erik was surprised - he remembered Charles mentioning he had been a lonely little boy.

“We adopted her when I was twelve.” Charles specified. “She completely rejected my parents as a young adult, but we're still quite close. She lives in New York though, so I don't see her very often.”

“It must be odd getting a brand new sibling when you're already this grown up.” Erik commented. “Did you know her beforehand?”

“No.” Charles laughed. “She ran away from the local orphanage one day and ended up trying to steal food from our kitchen. I felt an immediate sense of responsibility towards her - and maybe we weren't that different in our craving for a family. My parents were never exactly nurturing. We had to take her back there, at first, but in the process we got along brilliantly, so I made my mother start the adoption proceedings very quickly.”

“So you adopted yourself a sister, actually.” Erik smiled affectionately.

“And they say you don’t choose your family.” Charles joked.

I’d choose you, Erik thought with such clarity that he felt dizzy. He had to say something. He had to ask Charles out, or at least tell him how much these lunches had come to mean to him, how much he had come to mean to him, or…

“I’ll be off next week.” Charles spoke before he could. “I have a conference in Geneva and I'll spend a couple of days in Paris on the way back. You said you've been, haven't you? Anything you'd recommend?”

Erik put a lid on the feelings swelling inside him, deciding it was probably heatstroke, and talked about Paris.

***

“You are in love with him, you big _tonto._ ”

Erik looked at Logan, because surely it wasn't fair that his daughter could freely insult him in Spanish, but he didn't say anything.

“Exhibit A.” Laura went on. “You barely say hello in the evening but you talk about him. Repeatedly. You tell us how your lunch went.”

“I'm not going to tell you all about how I didn't speak to anyone that day, am I?” Erik pointed out.

“Exhibit B.” Laura ignored him. “You're crankier at weekends. Who is crankier at weekends?”

Erik looked towards Logan for help, but he shrugged. “Kid's right.”

“Is because you don't see him.” Laura continued. “Exhibit C, he has been on holiday one day and you are pining.”

It was pointless to deny it at this stage. “If you have to know,” He grumbled, “I was going to ask him out.”

Laura almost squealed in joy. “Do it!”

“Don't have his number.” Erik had already kicked himself many times for never asking. “I'll do it next Monday.”

“Don't be too desperate.” Laura piped up. “Wait for Tuesday.”

***

It had been the longest week of lonely lunches, and the crankiest weekend, and come Monday, Erik had decided to sod it and just ask Charles out already, whether it made him look desperate or not.

He waited. He waited past his allocated hour, going back to the office late and in the foulest mood his secretary had ever seen him in. He went back to the park on his way out in the evening - he didn't know why, out of stupid hope.

Charles never showed.

He waited for a week. Maybe he'd gotten Charles’ dates muddled up. Maybe the conference had been moved or extended. Maybe Charles had loved Paris and decided to stay longer.

He waited for another week. Charles had probably met a gorgeous Parisian - man, woman, Erik had carefully avoided asked where Charles’ preference laid, though he had spotted enough interest to keep him going.

He eventually stopped waiting. Charles had stopped coming. He wasn't as happy. Logan and Laura didn't say anything - but there were a couple of sorry looks.

He could have wept for never asking Charles for his number.

Easier to ghost someone when they don't have it, he supposed.  

***

It had been almost three months. Erik still came to the park to have lunch whenever the weather allowed it, and apart from feeling like he'd lost a shot at the love of his life, he was fine. He hadn't even known Charles that long. Never mind that he had never felt a connection like that with any other person. He was over it. Totally over it.

“Mind if I sit here?”

He turned so fast he could have sprained his neck. Charles. Charles was there. Erik was momentarily blinded with joy, and it took him a moment to collect himself and for his brain to realise that something was wrong.

Charles was in a wheelchair. He looked thinner, his eyes darker. His thick, soft hair had been shaved off, only a thin layer of brown fuzz growing back - not enough to hide the craniotomy scar running along his skull.

“Charles.” Erik whispered, unable to utter anything else. He knew he must looked shocked, and he probably shouldn’t be staring, but he couldn’t take his eyes off this version of Charles.

“Hi.” Charles smiled weakly.

Erik shuffled to face Charles more fully.

“What happened?” He asked.

“I found out you shouldn’t jaywalk in Paris.” Charles tried to joke - it fell a little flat.

“Oh my god.” Erik felt slightly nauseous.

“I really wanted to come and see you first thing.” Charles looked down. “I would have called, but I didn’t know how to contact you. You probably wondered where I’d disappeared to.”

“A little.” Erik minimised in a strangled voice. He’d imagined a lot of scenarios where Charles had forgotten all about him, but not this - never this.

“Raven’s been helping me get back on my feet.” Charles said, looking to the side, and Erik only then noticed the blond woman standing quietly a few feet away. “Well.” He winced. “In a manner of speaking.”

He looked down, and Erik took in the wheelchair again.

“Is this…” He swallowed. “Is this permanent?”

“They barely managed to save my life.” Charles spoke quietly. “I don’t blame them for not saving my legs.”

“Charles, I am so sorry.” His brain then caught up with him. “Raven?” He frowned.

“Uh.” Charles laughed sheepishly. “I think she picked it herself.”

Erik glanced at her fair hair, and figured at least she had a sense of contradiction.

“Anyway, hum.” Charles was saying. “I'm still recovering, I won't be back at work anytime soon, they've replaced me for the school year and my research needs to wait until my brain doesn't feel it a strain to multiply small numbers.”

He did seem tired, as if talking even this much was requiring more effort than he'd made so far.

“I'll stay outside London for a while.” He continued. “So I won't make our lunches. But I thought I could… call you, maybe? From time to time.” He looked bashful and apprehensive, as if Erik might tell him he wanted nothing more to do with him.

“Of course.” Erik said, and didn't miss the small smile of relief on Charles’ face.

“Good. I've missed talking to you.”

They exchanged numbers, Charles said he'd call. He said goodbye as his sister approached to manoeuvre the chair away.

Dazed, Erik stared at the digits on his screen for half a minute before he snapped out of it. _Tonto_ , he thought.

“Charles!” He sprung up and caught up with them in a few quick strides. “I was going to ask you on a date.” He blurted out. “Before you went to Geneva. I just… that's not going to change. I'm still asking. When you're better.”

Charles looked mildly shocked. “Erik…”

“I mean it.” Erik asserted. “I like you, I’ve missed you, and I want to give us a chance.”

Charles’ smile looked almost pained. “I like you too.”

“Then call me.” Erik said. “The invitation stands. Call me when you’re well. Call me in between, actually. Or I’ll call you. I’ll call you. I won’t let you disappear on me again.”

Charles laughed. “Alright, easy.” His eyes crinkled in fondness when he looked at Erik. “I’ll call. And if you want to visit, I’ll text you the address.”

Erik smiled back.

“It’s a date.”

 


End file.
